PostScript
by tamiiland
Summary: Ever since Bo and him were separated, Woody was left with a broken heart. Years later, he learns of her whereabouts; e-mails, eager friends and a bothersome imsomnia might just give our sheriff the incentive that he's needing.


**Disclaimer:** I do not own _Toy Story 3, Virtua Tennis _or_ The Age of Empires _and its mentioned expansions.

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**PostScript**

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_Dear Bo__,_

Woody stared at those two words intently as the twinkling line waited for the next letter to be written. What should he say? Should he ask how she was doing? Should he blurt out everything his toy heart still felt? Maybe he should just take it easy and talk about the weather.

He still wasn't sure that this was a good idea, and he still had the chance to back down. But, darn it all, he wasn't going to quit so easily! It was normal that he felt eager and unsure about it; he'd not even been the one to think about doing it, in the first place. Jessie and Buttercup had just encouraged him way too much into writing the e-mail, and he'd finally decided to give it a try, be it all for tranquility's sake.

After finding out that Bo Peep lived two blocks away from Bonnie's house, he'd started imagining all kind of thoughts and fantasies. Woody especially enjoyed dreaming of his cotton arms being wrapped around her slim porcelain waist as he held her in a tight hug; finally reunited after so long.

But he was scared.

What if she'd met another toy and she didn't feel the same towards him anymore? The sheriff certainly preferred to deal with the doubt than to live with the sorrow. It was a slow agony not being able to talk to Bo Peep having her so near, but it would be even harder for him to keep in touch after being illuminated to the bitterest truth.

"Writer's block?" Woody glanced up from the computer screen to see Dolly approaching. She smirked warmly as she sat next to him. "Lemme help. You're writing to your girlfriend, right?"

Laughing half-heartedly, the sheriff straightened. "No. She's… an old comrade."

"Yeah. Right," Dolly stared at the two lonely words written in the screen. "You sure are nervous. I hadn't seen a block this big since Mr. Pricklepants had to play princess."

"I'm not nervous, Dolly. I'm just… insecure," Woody explained. "You're too young to understand–"

"Hey!"

"–but you must realize that a toy my age has gone through a lot of stuff. Bo might have already moved on with her life. That's why I'm being so cautious about this."

"Well, drop the cautiousness for a while or you won't progress at all, cowboy," the rag doll grinned, letting her white tooth show more. She leaned back using her hands to stay seated, and sighed in a carefree way.

Woody looked at the screen again, feeling uncomfortable with Dolly next to him. He was trying to open his heart and write a letter to the girl he loved, and the peeping googly-eyed toy wasn't really helping; invading his privacy so freely and accusing him of being stuck.

"So what're you gonna do, sheriff?" asked Dolly, dusting off her dress.

Groaning in frustration, Woody massaged his temples. "I don't know, okay? I'm having an emotional breakdown here. Could you please stop pushing me to the limit?" he accidentally slapped off his hat and automatically reached for it, but didn't stretch enough.

The doll watched as it rolled down the desk and landed of the floor, near to where Trixie and Rex were chattering, oblivious to the tense atmosphere growing above them. He sighed and let his forehead hit the desk.

"Ready to admit you're nervous?" When the toy answered with an askance glare, she retreated. "Whoa, hold up. I'm just trying to help, but maybe you'd be more at ease with your sis. You want me to call Jessie?"

Slowly straightening up, Woody decided to let Dolly call Jessie his sister and not correct her. It had become a habit from everyone to start referring to them like that ever since Bonnie had decided that the two round-uppers were siblings. He glanced at the monitor, as if expecting that Bo Peep would suddenly appear using the webcam and wave lovingly at him.

"Yes, please," he murmured as he reached for the screen's surface, gently caressing over the place that had written 'Bo'.

"Right away, sheriff," Dolly crooned, slapping his shoulder as friendly and encouragingly as she could manage. Walking to the desk's edge she scanned the room, and after finding Jessie near the bedside, the rag doll jumped down while shouting the cowgirl's name.

Woody looked over his shoulder to notice that the impossibly wide grin that usually adorned the rodeo girl's face soon faded after whispering a few words with the googly-eyed toy. He wished he would stop making those around him worry over his matters, but the cowboy found it almost painful to keep it to himself. Even if Jessie was utterly happy with Buzz and didn't know –and would probably never know– about love and its disappointments, Woody had the funny feeling that she understood him perfectly. Mrs. Potato Head had never been able to calm the sheriff down every time the doubt assaulted him worse than a bandit and Buzz hadn't been able to shut his bliss away while Woody confessed his fears to his best friend, making the toy feel unhappy and blue. Against all odds, Jessie had been victorious where the others had failed.

Watching his round-up partner carry out a series of stunts and pirouettes to directly reach his side instead of climbing up the desk like all the rest, the sheriff doll couldn't help to smile warmly as she landed noisily next to him.

"Wazzup, bro?"

"Hey, Jess. Why do you keep calling me that?"

"Because we're family, you dog!" she said cheerfully as she grabbed his head and rubbed it with her fist. She frowned. "Where's your hat?"

Breaking free from her grasp, he pointed at the floor. "I knocked it off accidentally."

"And you didn't go get it?" At Woody's shake of the head, she blinked worriedly. "You really are not okay." Looking at the screen, she hummed understandingly. "It's been seven years; right, Woody? That yard sale was when Andy turned thirteen… Do you think she might miss us?" Sitting next to him, she rested her head on his shoulder and without waiting for his answer, she said, "Sometimes I miss her."

Jessie felt the cowboy stiffen up almost imperceptibly and she knew that she had touched the right string. Her unorthodox psychological methods would find their way around this sheriff's feelings, as always.

Drawing her legs near her chest, she managed a perfectly gloomy face as she twisted her neck ever-so-slightly to let him have a glimpse of her quivering lip. She hated pretending and lying, but sometimes Woody was just too stubborn to close his eyes and trust his heart, so she had to adjust things in her favor from time to time. He was loyal and fair, but when it came to his other feelings, he preferred to have them under control; something that, in Jessie's opinion, was silly and impossible, especially for someone as spontaneous and pure as him. The only thing he always got out of that was suffering; she'd seen it happening in the last seven years.

Woody rested his cheek against her head and murmured something to make her feel better, which made the cowgirl feel even guiltier, turning her expression from gloom to grief. As she felt her eyebrows twist in agony being faced with such a treachery, she decided to speed things up and blurted out what she thought would be the most impacting thing to say.

"Do you miss her?"

To this, Jessie only heard a thick silence and she expected Woody to tense up and crawl away, but he didn't. He just sighed inside her hair and clasped his hands together, which made her have the thought that maybe he was praying.

"Yes," he confessed. "I miss her dearly."

Jessie could practically touch the sadness and longing in his tone. Her recently proclaimed brother could definitely use a miracle.

"Then why don't you get in touch with her? It's not hard. She lives with the dinosaur Trixie's friends. We have the e-mail and all," Jessie considered her words for a moment and sat straight to look fully at her friend. "Didn't we have this conversation a while ago?"

"Yeah, we did."

"Buttercup and I were trying to convince you into sending a message, right?"

"Yup."

"Oh," she scratched her nose. "Then why don't you?"

"It's…" Woody tried to explain. "It's difficult for me, Jessie. You should know about these things too, but I guess you were too busy yodeling to fall in love before," he joked.

"Naw! I was waiting for Buzz to show up." the cowgirl laughed, and the simplicity and sincerity of her words shook him deep. She didn't notice, though. "What about you, Woody? You're not waiting for anyone to show up."

He smiled at her. "No. I'm waiting for _someone_to show up."

"Hmm. Lucky girl to have my bro falling for her," she teased. "If he just got in touch with her… once and for all," Jessie pressed, giving him a playful shove on the shoulder.

For some reason, Woody felt it much more reassuring than Dolly's pat.

"I guess I could," he mumbled, looking up at the screen. The blinking line still waited for the next letter to be written. "But not today."

"Okey-dokey, Fuzzy-woozy cowboy heart," she cooed before kissing his cheek. "Take your time, but don't take too long."

"I will. Thanks, Jess," he said, placing Jessie's hat correctly over her head in what he hoped was a brotherly way of thanking her. She laughed childishly and stunted down the desk. Watching as the hat was swung upwards, Woody saw it land with perfect aiming over his lap.

"You're welcome!"

Without loosing a moment, the cowboy put his hat on and turned back to the screen, staring at the porcelain doll's name again before searching for the 'delete' key. He tapped it once, twice, until it became eight times.

Then, Bo Peep's name was gone.

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It was always a real pain for Woody to sleep in Bonnie's bed, especially because, unlike Andy, she had the habit of cuddling with as many toys she could usher under the covers. The cowboy, used to having his personal space respected by everyone except Jessie, and being a self-proclaimed deserver of the best –although he kept said thought for himself– didn't like being in the crowded bed, having Buzz's plastic knee digging into his back and Buttercup's equine figure slowly but inevitably snuggling closer with each passing second.

Although Woody had spent quite some time inside Andy's toy box, he'd adjusted to the changes just fine, deciding that he had been removed from his rightful place due to his partner's long-awaited and once-feared growing-up stage kicking in. Of course, Woody had felt terrible at first, but tried to remain strong and not give the impression of a pampered toy that'd been denied of his luxuries. Besides, he would be able to share some night fun with his buddies, something he'd been missing for a long time due to staying with his owner during almost every night.

This was different, though. Andy's toy box had been a familiar, lovely place for him, and although he'd been living with Bonnie for almost four years now, he still felt the pinching difference between being cramped with his old mates in a well-welcomed coffer, and being crowded in a bed with his new owner –Woody would always think that way of Bonnie; she wasn't a Davis after all– her toys, and just a few of his long-time fellows. In this kind of situation, the sheriff could become quite pushy and picky. He needed fresh air; he needed a less cramped place to sleep.

But above it all, he needed Bo.

One would wonder how one thing could lead to the other, but to Woody, it was perfectly clear: he would go through the whole Wild West and back just to be with her. The cowboy wouldn't mind Buzz's annoying knee or Buttercup's awkward snuggling if he knew that he had Bo Peep at the reach of his voice. Of course, Woody wouldn't mind his two sleeping friends either, because well, he would be sharing his sleeping hours with her, obviously.

Slipping out the sheets, the sheriff steadied his boots on the pillow, careful not to step on anyone. When he made sure that his smooth slip had gone unnoticed, he started hopping as gently as possible between the sleeping bodies to reach the end of the bed. He stopped for a mere instant to stare at Buzz and Jessie; the latter having her girlish face relaxed in a joyful expression thanks to the ranger's luminescence and the bed's treacherous illusion of space. Hopping again, he crouched to climb down.

"Woozy?" Buzz whispered in a slurred manner, almost lisping. It was odd to know that he could actually talk like that, being the uptight action figure he was sometimes. "Where you goin'?"

"To have a walk around the room," he murmured back. "Trixie's on the computer so it's okay; I won't be the only one awake."

"Woody?" asked Buttercup, with his eyes much more alert than Buzz's. "What's wrong?"

"He's goin' for a walk," the space toy mumbled into the pillow, smiling idiotically.

Woody had a sudden flash of Mrs. Nesbit juggling through his mind and fought hard to bit back a sincere laughter that he would have loved to hear. The sheriff didn't go laughing around a lot recently and was scared of losing the habit.

Buttercup stared at Woody's display of emotions attentively. "That's all you're going to do?"

"Well, yeah. I really need to stretch these legs or the cotton will get all bumpy." The cowboy pretended to exercise his knees and toes doing simple rotations, and smiled reassuringly, even though he was the one who needed reassurance.

The unicorn arched an eyebrow questioningly, but let the matter slip. "Okay, then. G'night, sheriff."

"Goodnight, Cups," Woody whispered, thanking God that it hadn't been Jessie who had woken up or everyone else in the room would have, too.

Climbing down the flowery fabric, the cowboy made his way to the computer, where Trixie had lowered its screen's shine to almost non-existent so it wouldn't bother Bonnie and the other toys, who were obedient to the girl's parents and fast asleep after curfew hour.

The incredibly fast taps on the keys made the triceratops' typing horribly notorious in the nocturnal silence, and albeit her efforts of staying unnoticed, Mr. Potato Head would probably get out of the toy box in less than half an hour to hiss at her and demand that she go to bed so he could sleep in peace. That meant that Woody had more than enough time to try sending the e-mail; that is, if Trixie lets him.

"Hey, Trixie," he murmured from the floor.

"Oh. Hi, Woody! I thought you were Mr. Potato Head," she whispered energetically. Looking nervously at the toy box and then back at him, she fidgeted slightly. "He didn't ask you to kick me out, did he?"

Chuckling half-heartedly, he looked up at her. "No, don't worry."

"Ah, okay. So, um, are you going to come up? We could play Virtua Tennis, or maybe you prefer Age of Empires? I know you like it," she offered. "I have an expansion, too: Age of Mythology. Sounds kinda cliché with the mythology part, I know, but it's pretty good. Bonnie's cousin forgot it here at her last birthday party. I'm so lucky I could install it before he came to get it back! I can't wait to get the Chiefs War expansion. It's said to have awesome graphics and it's all Western-like; you'll love it!"

When she finished talking, Woody had already climbed up and reached her side, smiling knowingly at her odd mix of excited teenage childishness. Thankfully, some toys would never change.

"I'd really like to go through Jeanne d'Arc's campaign with you, Trixie, but right now I need the computer for something. Do you think I could borrow it? It won't take long," he promised.

"Uhh, sure! Just let me close the Explorer," she laughed nervously. "I was just downloading a game or two– Nothing much…" Woody noticed that at least nine windows were open with different applications and expansions. Was she really planning to play all of those? Surely, she was just trying to help Rex to get better at handling the controls. The blue dinosaur clicked on the red button at the right corner and everything was closed. "There! All yours. My mail's open, just in case you need it. I'm off to bed now. Good night, Woody!" She giggled as she used a couple of piled up boxes as a stair.

"Sleep well," he said before turning his attention to the screen. It was obvious that either Jessie or Buttercup had let their tongues slip, or Trixie wouldn't have known that he needed her e-mail address open and functioning. With a heavy sigh, he clicked on the mail and the program's window opened smoothly, letting him see the list of contacts.

Velocistar237 wasn't online. Woody didn't know if that was good or bad, but it meant that he could write the e-mail in peace without having the other dinosaur constantly talking to him and freaking him out of his boots even more with every word he sent. He had gotten to like Timothy –that was the toy's name– but everything the sheriff wanted at that moment, he thought as he slowly moved the mouse over the button that would send him to the mailbox, was peace. The cowboy clicked and waited as everything appeared in the screen. What he saw next left him out of breath.

A mail. Nothing out of the ordinary until then; Trixie received lots of mails per day. But this mail was special. This mail had his name.

_Woody_

He read it over and over again, as if his life depended of those five plain, black letters. His mind soon started whirling around all kinds of possibilities and fantasies. Embracing Bo Peep again felt incredibly close to reality this time and although he'd almost forgotten the feeling of his heart fluttering, Woody received the ticklish sensation with open arms.

_Could it be?_ he thought. _Could it really be?_

With trembling fingers and the ghost of a smile appearing in his disbelieving face, he opened the mail, just to find it written in italic and a soft pink. There was absolutely no doubt about it now. This mail was Bo's and hers only, and it was just for him.

He clutched onto his chest slightly as he began to read.

_Dear Woody,_

_Hello. How have you been, partner? It's been a long time since we saw each other. How is everyone doing? Are you all still together? I hope you are. It was too painful to get separated from you and I would be sad to know that the others met the same destiny as me. For what your friend Trixie told Timmy, the old group is still standing._

_Just because I know that you are an overprotective boy, I'll let you know that I am fine. My new owner loves me and takes great care of me because I am made of porcelain, and she is very conscious of my frailty. Apparently, her mother had a porcelain doll that looked a lot like me, so I am under the protection of not only children, but adults too._

_How is the life with your new owner? I know that parting from Andy must have been hard for you, b__ut just think that you'll always be a very important part of him, and I am proud of you for being so brave and letting him go._

_I hope to hear from you soon,_

_Bo._

_PS: I miss you._

And Woody couldn't help but stare, remembering times together that were much further back than his story with the other toys. He remembered Andy's grandmother handing her daughter the imported gift the woman had chosen for the couple shortly after she got married to the boy's father; his first owner. The foreign porcelain girl had been wrapped around various handkerchiefs and lots of cotton, while the sheriff had been just a couch decoration then, having his newlywed partner refusing to pack him away. Being part of the ornamentation had allowed him to see the Mrs. Davis's joyful tears as she embraced her mother after unwrapping what he knew would be the most beautiful doll he would ever see. And between the excited giggling and babbling, he learned her name.

Bo Peep.

Wrapping his arms around himself, Woody read the mail again, feeling her soothing voice murmuring each word as he listened to the beautiful illusion mutely. He felt her eagerness when writing his name. The way she serenely dropped her greetings and chit-chat to loosen up the cowboy, adding a fond, chummy 'partner'. How she heartily admitted her sadness and worry, and how she gave it a touch of a homey feeling as she evoked the old gang. He smiled at the overprotectiveness she mentioned, for it could be very true sometimes –who was he fooling? All the time!– and she knew it better than anyone. She had added a few curious details for him to read, reread, and memorize too.

Finally, she'd asked him about his life and comforted him in a matter that had happened already quite some time ago, but still made him ache every once in a while. Bo Peep had admitted to be proud of him, and he could feel her trembling, delicate fingertips as she wrote the postscript. Woody was no fool, and he found the true meaning behind those three words even faster than Bullseye's gallop.

He could almost see it, being the scene as obvious as it was to the sheriff. She'd intended to write another word instead of the 'miss', but after typing the 'I' she'd fallen prey of the fear, and changed it for what she hoped would deliver her real feelings anyway.

Passing a hand across his cheek, he felt a well received turmoil spinning around his head. It wasn't an increasing headache, but a growing relief. It filled his chest with lightness and curved his lips upwards, giving him something to be completely happy for. He had had joyful moments since they had departed, yes, but this left practically everything else in the dust.

There was no time to loose, he berated himself as he clicked on the Replay button, and started to write.

_Dear Bo,_

_Hey, lass. It's been a while._

He typed quietly, enjoying every time he tapped a key for another letter to appear. He was finally writing a mail for his shepherdess, and he knew just what he was going to write in his postscript:

_I love you._

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**A/N:** I hope you enjoyed this small yet overly fluffly idea that left my mind to become a oneshot. Many thanks to MetallicBlueFrog, my lovely β-Reader & Corrector.


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